


And the Cherry Blossoms Dance

by kagedyams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, not too much angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagedyams/pseuds/kagedyams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers."<br/>- Edna St. Vincent Millay</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Cherry Blossoms Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Softly recommending that you listen to Sakura by Ikimono Gakari when reading??
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_NE5T50ihI

“You exist inside spring”  
_-Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso_

 

Spring was his favorite season.

There wasn’t a particular reason, no birthday during the season and no special holiday. Akaashi hated to submit to the hopeless romantic within him, which pleaded the platitude of _“spring is for new beginnings.”_

But it wasn’t like it was wrong.

The first day of high school was met with a slight breeze, and the fluttering of cherry blossom buds, painting the sidewalk in splatters of pastel pink. They leapt and danced away from their bed of cement as rushing feet disturbed their slumber, leaving a whirlwind of hues in his wake. They obscured the image of a boy haloed in the morning sun, white hair gleaming from the first rays. He had turned to face Akaashi just as he was about to disappear beyond a bend, smile reflecting off the morning dew as he waved, a laugh like wind chimes cutting the air, rippling the silence with soft, undulating waves of lark and pleasure.

“Hey! You’re gonna miss opening ceremony!”

He was gone.

Akaashi stood there, and didn’t resume walking until the cherry blossom petals had returned to their resting place, nestling against the crags in the road. A light breeze carried them off into the distance.

Akaashi was an hour late to opening ceremony.

 

~  
“You are brighter than the sunlight and bolder than a rainbow. You are the reason spring was created in the first place.”  
_― Toni Sorenson_

 

They met again before all the cherry blossoms fell.

The gym carried the smell of winter; the smell of loneliness, inactivity, uselessness. It had laid barren over winter, unused until clubs started up again. The Coach had already introduced the new first years, Akaashi among them. They were waiting on their ace, and it only took a few snickers and hushed whispers for Akaashi to realize this was usual.

His arrival was sudden, unannounced, filled with the banging of the doors being hastily flung open, and followed by flurry of faded pinks left by the whirlwind.

He arrived like spring.

Unbidden, unexpected, unpredicted.

Akaashi could only stare at the figure silhouetted against the waning sunlight. Others slapped his back, greetings and formalities and jokes tossed around carelessly. Akaashi could only stare, gazing with wide eyes man who had flittered away from him in a zephyr of lilting words and morning dew.

As if sensing his gaze, the boy detached himself from Akaashi’s senpai, moving towards the first-years who, like Akaashi, were all too stunned to move. He stopped right before Akaashi, grinning big and jabbing a thumb into his chest.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou and I’m your ace!”

 

~  
“His laughter sounded like April showers, like whispered secrets, like glass wind-chimes.”  
_― Rebecca McNutt_

 

The plum trees were beginning to bear fruit when Akaashi started staying late.

It was a month after Akaashi’s initial meeting, although there was no doubt in his mind Bokuto didn’t recognize him. He had established himself as Fukurodani’s back-up setter, second only to a third-year who moved just a little faster, thought a little harder. Akaashi didn’t like to admit he thought it fortunate the setter wasn’t too fond of Bokuto, meaning it was often the overeager ace would beg him to stay after to toss to him. He agreed, and a week after they had begun their private practice, Akaashi’s face still heated up at watching Bokuto.

His fingers brushed against the skin of the ball, applying pressure around the pads of his fingers as he redirected it directly to where Bokuto lay in wait. He sprung up, knees bending as he leaped forward, the hem of his shirt fluttering in the stale gym air. When he rushed past Akaashi for the ball, the latter had to fight the temptation to close his eyes in bliss, focus only on the scent of cherries and sweat and spring.

“Did you see that spike, Akaashi!? It just went _fyoom_ right over the net!” Bokuto bobbed his head excitedly, narrating his most recent spike with accompanying arm movements and sound effects.

“Yes, Bokuto-san, it was amazing.”

 _He_ was amazing.

 

~  
“Spring is the only season that flutters in on gentle wings and builds nests in our hearts.”  
_― Toni Sorenson_

 

They began to walk home together as the plums ripened.

The cool early spring air was slowly being choked and dominated by the stiff humidity of summer. Akaashi meant to take the train home that day, but he was so caught up in idle chat with Bokuto he hadn’t even realized he had passed the intersection that led to the station. Bokuto continued to blather on, apparently as oblivious to the fact as Akaashi was. Akaashi hiked his bag up his shoulder, figuring that so long as they kept walking, he could hear Bokuto’s deep voice titter away forever. He only offered obligatory hums and head nods to Bokuto’s musings, paying only half-mind to Bokuto’s weird retellings of his lunch. Instead he focused on the flutter of his eyelashes, the gentle tinge of pink that colored his cheeks when he got too into discussion. He focused on the bob of his Adam’s apple as he paused for breath, the steep slope of his nose and the barely there smattering of freckles along the rigid cartilage.

Bokuto stopped.

Akaashi watched as Bokuto’s eyes shone in realization, widening as his mouth formed a small _o_.

“Hey Akaashi, wasn’t your turn way back there?” He had questioned.

Akaashi had been caught.

“The convenience store down the road sells a certain kind of pocky that my sister loves. I promised I’d buy her some before I went to the station.”

Lie.

Bokuto’s lips reconnected, the soft skin pressing against each other for just a moment. He blinked slowly, those thick black lashes sending skittering shadows along the tips of his cheeks. That peaceful demeanor vanished as he laughed throatily, slapping Akaashi on the back as they continued their stroll.

Akaashi felt the nerves on his back tingling all night.

 

~  
“An ending is only happening because at some point it was a beginning. And if an ending is dependent upon a beginning, I would be well advised to focus on the miracle of beginnings versus the pain of endings.”  
_― Craig D. Lounsbrough_

 

Summer passed in a thunderstorm of festivals and stifling air and paper fans.

Inter High bore the fruit of Nationals, a victory short-lived when they lost in their second match. They returned exhausted both physically and emotionally, muscles sore from overwork and voices hoarse from cheering and their spirits crushed under the weight of defeat. Akaashi shouldn’t have minded that much, he saw only a few minutes of playing time; but Bokuto’s downcast expression was not one he was used to. Akaashi had grown accustomed to Bokuto’s trademarked “emo mode”, but this was unlike any he had seen. It was filled with eyes that wavered, stuck in a limbo between unrepressed pride and the growth of tears. Akaashi wished he could console him, but he sat in a seat adjacent to his, blocking out the world and finding ways to fix the problem.

The solution came after everyone had left the clubroom.

Bokuto and Akaashi were the only two left. Bokuto had not even begun to pack his bag yet, opting instead to stare off into the space just a little to the left. A few teammates had slapped his back in a sympathetic gesture as they left, muttering reassurances and _“We’ll beat Shiratorizawa at Spring High,”_ before they hiked their bags up their shoulders and departed. Akaashi had packed his bag at an excruciatingly slow speed, giving cause for excuse as to why he was still left. When the final member had left and the door closed, Akaashi stuffed his arms into his jacket, zipping up the front as he stood. He approached the hunched figure of the ace with precise steps, stopping when his shadow dripped over the gelled horns on Bokuto’s head. He placed a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, felt how he flinched and his muscles bunched up in shock. He turned his head up, offering a watery smile. Akaashi knelt before him, moving his hand up from his shoulder to his cheek, cupping the soft skin as his thumb swiped under the bottom of his eye, catching moisture. He offered Bokuto a small smile, and watched as he fell apart.

He sniffled, a great big inhale of repressed snot and tears. He tried to gulp it down, but it overflowed, an ugly mess of salt and water and mucous. Akaashi’s hand traveled from his cheek to the back of his head, twining his fingers in the coarse strands of dried and dyed hair as he pulled Bokuto’s face forward until it was pressed between his shoulder and his chest. Bokuto nuzzled closer, wetness permeating his jacket and seeping into his skin. With his free hand, he patted Bokuto’s back, trailing the tips of his finger along the expanse of his back. He traced figure eight’s into the cotton of his shirt, felt the tremors that wracked his body as Bokuto hiccuped and choked over his own distress. Neither of them said anything, neither of them needed to, and the only sounds with echoed around the clubroom were the muffled sobs of Bokuto. Akaashi nuzzled his nose into the nadir of Bokuto’s spiked horns, inhaling the smell of an endless spring of rain and blossoms and pollen.

They stayed there like that, until Bokuto had run out of tears and Akaashi had run out of excuses to touch him.

 

~  
“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”  
_― Rainer Maria Rilke_

 

The next school year brought dappled sunlight and a fresh start.

The cherry blossoms bloomed again. They pirouetted to the ground, twirling like pretty pink ballerinas in the April air. Akaashi didn’t plan to repeat his mistake, so he woke up early and allotted himself time to admire the scenic view. That didn’t stop the ritual pattering of feet, the array of disturbed petals, the harsh wind that blew at the strands of Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi closed his eyes for a moment, expecting to open them to see a broad back engulfed in flitting pinks and whites. Instead, he felt a hand grip his forearm, yanking him along and into that mist of colors. Akaashi heard a laugh, like the tinkle of wind chimes, and he caught the sun haloed off white spikes and he couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Come on slowpoke, you’re gonna miss orientation!”

Bokuto dragged him into that warm spring.

 

~  
“Because the birdsong might be pretty,  
But it's not for you they sing,  
And if you think my winter is too cold,  
You don't deserve my spring.”  
_― Erin Hanson_

 

Cherry blossoms fell, and Akaashi felt himself falling too.

Akaashi greeted the new volleyball season as Fukurodani’s Vice Captain and official setter. He felt unworthy, but Bokuto had all but begged. Akaashi felt his knees go weak when Bokuto gazed at him, bottom lip drawn out in a pout and round, brown eyes glistening in the half-light. Akaashi had averted his gaze, muttered a curt “fine,” and was promptly pulled into Bokuto’s chest. He blushed until his cheeks were the colors of the cherry blossoms littering the ground.

He could feel the change, the shift. It was subtle, like a sly fox slinking around prey right before it pounced. He wondered how long until he was caught, ensnared in the claws of a predator he wasn’t prepared to face. So he pulled away, unwinding Bokuto’s arms and returning to his usual curt manner of speaking.

“I look forward to working with you, Bokuto-san.”

 

~  
“If words were leaves, would you prefer fall or spring?”  
_― Jarod Kintz_

 

The last blossom had not yet fallen when Bokuto revealed his true feelings.

They were practicing after everyone left, sweat gluing Akaashi’s shirt to his chest like a second skin. He wrinkled his nose as he pulled it away, uncomfortable with how hot it was for April. Spring was meant to be cool, betwixt winter and summer that couldn’t be described as anything other than _‘refreshing.’_ Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder what set this spring apart from the last one. Spring was meant to be a do-over, a beginning from whence he first started. Why was this spring so stifling? 

Akaashi loved spring, but not this one. Not the spring which choked him under a false title and smothered him in a humid, breezeless air.

Akaashi felt the ball against his fingers. He exerted the pressure, pushing it away with as much rejection as he felt for this spring. He heard the connect, the harsh smack of skin against leather, the cheer of a rowdy boy who probably held no qualms over the current weather.

“Akaashi, how do you do it? Your tosses are like, crazy good!” Bokuto exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet with unrestrained excitement.

“They have to be good Bokuto-san, who else would be able to deal with you?” he smiled as Bokuto sputtered indignations at the insult. He crowded into his space, eyebrows arched upwards and his mouth twisted into his usual pout.

“Are you saying you're the only one who could toss to me, Akaashi?”

Akaashi gulped. _Too close._

He flattened his palm against Bokuto’s chest, trying not to scowl at the stickiness of his sweat-soaked top. He pushed him away gently.

“Personal space, Bokuto-san. And that’s not what I said; I just said that as it is now, nobody on our team has developed enough to toss to you yet,” Akaashi explained calmly, stepping away from the third-year and grabbing another volleyball. Focus. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

These small reassurances helped him through extra practice, but it didn’t help when Bokuto sidled up beside him as he locked the gym doors. “Hey hey hey wasn’t I amazing today!” He hooted, eyes roving the expanse of Akaashi’s face, looking for a compliment there.

“You performed the same as usual, Bokuto-san,”

Bokuto deflated, shoulders dropping as he hung over Akaashi.

“But Akaashi, how can you say that when I’m complimenting your tosses so much? I mean it’s not like I’m saying it to flatter you, I love your tosses like I love—“ he snapped his mouth shut, stopping his words in their tracks. Akaashi turned to look up at him, eyebrows raised and eyes expectant. Bokuto gulped, eyes quivering in their sockets as he reached a hand out.

“You,” he finished. He tried to drop his hand back to his side, but Akaashi caught it with his own, pulling it up and gripping it tightly. Bokuto had tried to avert his gaze, but Akaashi’s sudden movements caused him to look him directly in the eye. Akaashi smiled at him, green eyes narrowing in affection as he pulled the hand to his chest, wrapping both hands around it so they covered his hand completely. He pressed it against his chest, flattening the palm of Bokuto’s hand right above where his heart was thrumming away. Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat, and none of them moved, only listened to Akaashi’s heartbeat as it pressed on. Bokuto’s fingertips curled in  
slightly.

In that moment, it was more than enough.

 

~  
“What a strange thing!  
to be alive  
beneath cherry blossoms.”  
_― Kobayashi Issa_

 

Their first kiss felt like starlight and promises.

They had stayed after for practice, an easy tradition for the both of them. Before either of them had realized, the sunlight was fading into a jaded twilight, and both were tired from hours of exercise. There was a convenience store a block away from the school, and Bokuto had left Akaashi to put away the equipment while he dashed off.

That was a half hour ago. The net was rolled up and put in a storage shed, and Akaashi was sitting in the grass just outside the gym. The stars were beginning to shine along the Tokyo skyline, their light faint straining through the pollution. Akaashi turned when he heard the soft pattering of footsteps and a call of “Akaashi!” Bokuto was running towards him, waving one arm wildly over his head while the other supported a plastic bag filled with miscellaneous goods. Akaashi raised his hand, fingers twitching in a slight wave. Before he could utter a greeting, Bokuto stumbled, tripping over some invisible object and landing face-first in the grass.

Akaashi stood up immediately and ran over, kneeling down in front of his fallen boyfriend. “Bokuto-san, are you okay?” He asked when Bokuto raised his face from where it was buried in the dirt. He looked up at Akaashi and grinned.

“Guess I really _fell_ for you, huh?”

Akaashi sighed at Bokuto’s overly smug look, as if the pick-up line wasn’t the cheesiest thing ever uttered. He knocked his knuckles against Bokuto’s forehead, the ends of his lips quirking up. “Idiot,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

After Akaashi had helped Bokuto back to his feet and tied his shoelaces (the cause of the fall), they settled themselves back in the grass and opened the pre-made dinners that Bokuto got at the convenience store. They sat so close that Akaashi could feel the warmth radiating off Bokuto, gentle waves of slight heat that pressed into Akaashi’s core. He couldn’t help but to lean into that warmth, until their shoulders were touching and Bokuto had tensed up at the slight contact, before he relaxed and stretched his arm across Akaashi’s shoulder. The warmth pressed into his side, and Akaashi could almost feel Bokuto heating up in embarrassment, imagining that pastel pink that painted his cheeks and accentuated the faint trickling of freckles, which dabbed his nose. Akaashi closed his eyes in bliss, allowing his head to loll onto Bokuto’s shoulder. His breathing evened out, and weariness weighed upon him, but he refused to let it conquer him.

“Akaashi? Are you asleep?” Bokuto asked, his fingers kneading into Akaashi’s shoulder gently.

“Mmm, not yet,” Akaashi muttered, voice hoarse.

“Oh! I—um—just wanted to say… I’m kinda, really happy right now?” His voice was faint, but it roused Akaashi to full cognizance. His eyes snapped open and he pulled away. Bokuto winced in surprise, eyes widening.

“I’m really happy too, Bokuto-san,” he said as he placed his food into the grass beside him, freeing his hands so he could cup Bokuto’s heated cheeks. He leaned into the touch, his eyes half-lidded as he pressed into Akaashi’s palms. Akaashi smiled and leaned forward, their lips just barely touching. Bokuto closed his eyes and leaned forward to fully connect them. His lips were like tree bark, rough and riddled with crags, but natural. They felt like morning dew and tasted like plum and beef and stardust.

Bokuto pulled away suddenly, only to gasp and point at the sky, “Look Akaashi, a shooting star! Make a wish!” He called before squeezing his eyes shut and faintly muttering his own wish.

_I wish for Bokuto-san to be happy, I wish for Bokuto-san to be happy, I wish for Bokuto-san to be happy._

 

~  
“People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.”  
_― Ernest Hemingway_

 

Their conversation trickled between them like a stream, which nurtured the earth around it.

They were walking home together, past Akaashi’s usual turn and to the convenience store where they always parted. Kids ran along with woven nets and unwavering spirit and innocence. Bokuto and Akaashi talked about the upcoming Spring High and strategies and what movie they should watch together over the weekend.

As they walked the last block that led to their parting point, Bokuto silenced. Akaashi was never good at keeping conversations going single-handedly, so he fell silent as well. The stiff summer air consumed them, robbing them of their breaths. They reached the intersection, and neither dared talk, only stood idle. Neither moved for minutes, and Akaashi was fiddling with his fingers when he realized neither would.

“Well, see you later Bokuto-san. Have a nice weekend,” Akaashi sighed, turning around. He was stopped by a surprised shout and a weight on his wrist, a sweating palm encircling it.

Akaashi paused mid-step, turning around slowly to face Bokuto. He squawked, letting go quickly and rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He laughed insecurely, the baritone noise coming out more of a cough. “My, uh, my parents are gonna be out of town for the weekend and they left this afternoon and the house is kinda going to be empty and I guess it might be a little lonely without anyone around so I was just kind of wondering, if maybe you could, y’know…” he rambled on, eyes skittering off to the side and his fingers shaking. Akaashi watched him for a moment, silently observing as nervousness wracked Bokuto.

“If you’re asking me to stay over Bokuto-san, I would love to.” Akaashi answered, stepping closer to Bokuto and further away from his own house. Bokuto grinned shyly up at him, his entire face painted pink.

They moved to Bokuto’s house in silence, the former anxiety returning and overtaking their space. They entered Bokuto’s house and Akaashi only muttered a small, “pardon the intrusion,” as he removed his shoes. Bokuto still refused to meet his gaze, and Akaashi realized he would have to take charge. He grabbed Bokuto’s hand, intertwining their fingers as he stepped closer until their chests were pressed together, connected by sweat and the furious beating of their hearts. “Would you like to go upstairs, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

Bokuto gulped and nodded, “Y-yeah,” he said, fingers twitching slightly before they squeezed Akaashi’s back. They moved, and it was only when the door was closed that Bokuto gained confidence.

Bokuto’s chest was like a river, a soft rippling of muscles that flowed and undulated under Akaashi’s touch. It was soft like the surface of a blossom, flushed pink and slightly dewy. His voice was a soft breeze, which carried warmth and gentle fragrances, murmuring _“Keiji,”_ and _“please,”_ as fingers like butterflies crawled along Akaashi’s skin and fluttered along the expanse of his body. His kisses were like raindrops, quick and wet and _everywhere._ Akaashi allowed himself to drown in the soft sensation of Bokuto encompassing him, taking everything and becoming a part of him.

 

~  
“People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born. 

And I am turning into a vampire.” 

_― M.T. Anderson_

 

The cherry blossom tree in front of Fukurodani Academy was struck by lightning one night and was forced to be cut down.

Nationals were a big affair, and both Bokuto and Akaashi were confident that they would take home the crown.

They didn’t.

They made it farther than last year, Shiratorizawa safely out of the competition. But they still found themselves bested at the hands of someone they thought they could’ve beaten. Akaashi knew Karasuno was a tough opponent, but he never thought they’d be able to beat the fourth best ace in the country.

They did.

Akaashi knew this was Bokuto’s last chance. There were scouts there, watching him and taking notes. They lost. There wasn’t anything more to it other than they weren’t good enough and they _lost._ The bus ride back to Fukurodani was filled with quiet sniffling and hushed conversations. Akaashi slept with his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, neither of them saying a word to each other. They sought solace in each other’s company, offering nothing, not until they were the only two left in the abandoned clubroom.

Akaashi knew that this time was different from Bokuto. It was his last shot and it was lost. Akaashi knelt besides Bokuto’s hunched figure, silent as he waited for Bokuto to lift his gaze. He rested a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, only to watch as Bokuto flinched and spun around, his palm connecting with Akaashi’s chest as he channeled all his strength into pushing Akaashi away. He stumbled, landing on his butt with wide green eyes meeting Bokuto’s.

They were cold, devoid of tears or warmth or anything.

He only watched as Bokuto grabbed his bag and walked out, leaving him alone.

 

~  
When the east wind blows,  
Let it send your fragrance.  
Oh plum blossoms,  
Although your master is gone,  
Do not forget the spring.  
_-Sugawara no Michizane_

 

Winter still clung to the air when Bokuto graduated.

It was a late spring, and the cherry blossoms struggled to grow in the cold winds. Bokuto was in a clean uniform, his blazer buttoned fully and his pants pressed. Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he looked so formal. He approached him after the ceremonies, when everyone else had already spoken to him and left. Bokuto regarded him with warm eyes, and a smile lit up his face.

“Hey Akaashi, come to see the man of honor?” He joked, slapping him on the back. Akaashi stumbled forward a bit as he chuckled.

“You look nice, Bokuto-san,” He said, eyes focused on his graduation outfit. The last few months following Spring High were hectic, and while they still walked home together almost every day, it wasn’t the same as before.

“Yeah! Hey, um, Akaashi, I have to talk to you about something. Do you think we could go somewhere private?” Bokuto’s voice lowered a bit and Akaashi nodded solemnly; he could tell just from Bokuto’s expression that this serious. They moved to a nook outside the school, and Bokuto looked him down with hardened eyes.

“Someone came up to me earlier. It was a representative for a college volleyball team in America. They want me to play abroad, Akaashi.” He explained, a nervous smile overcoming Bokuto’s features as he poked the tips of his fingers together. Akaashi’s back stiffened, but other than that, he didn’t let any emotion show. His lips flattened, a straight line that betrayed nothing.

“Is that so? I’m happy for you Bokuto-san.”

_I wish for Bokuto-san to be happy._

 

~  
“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”  
― Pablo Neruda

 

Spring was his least favorite season.

A new beginning? Who wanted that? Who wanted to start over from a life that was already perfect? Who wanted to erase everything they had, to start from the beginning?  
The blossoms fell, leaving the tree that nurtured them, only so that they could be stepped on under the careless feet of people. Akaashi tread over the pale pink petals, expression listless as he hiked his bag up his shoulder. The air felt stale and cold, the trees dark and barren, the grass drowned and helpless.

Bokuto had promised to keep in contact.

He didn’t.

Akaashi saw him on TV sometimes, on the international sports channel that shows official tournaments. He watched the bend of his knees, the force of his spike, the way the stadium lights were reflected off his glimmering white hair.

A strong wind picked up, whipping all of Akaashi’s hair to one side and sending the cherry blossoms in a tornado that obscured the road ahead of him. Akaashi squinted, watching a figure that walked forward through the sea of pastel pink and innocent white. The figure turned and waved, a familiar smile lighting its face as the sunlight was haloed off silver and white.

 

Akaashi dropped his bag and ran into the spring.

**Author's Note:**

> I had no clue how to end this so enjoy this shit.
> 
> I actually originally had planned to kill Bokuto in the last scene so???? you're welcome????
> 
> If you couldn't tell from the first quote, this was mostly inspired from Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso because I love that anime so much. Like the art style and the plot is so good and I've watched it way too much. I acually want to do a BokuAka ylia au which is going to sound an awful lot like this fic except akaashi plays violin.
> 
> http://kagedyams.tumblr.com


End file.
